


A Conversation in a Church

by justsimplymeagain



Category: Hellsing, Supernatural
Genre: A churck, Based before Dean goes to Hell, Gen, a conversation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 03:11:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justsimplymeagain/pseuds/justsimplymeagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Father Alexander Anderson woke up that morning, he didn't expect to be sitting in a church with a young man that left an impression as a child. And he didn't expect the conversation that came with it even less...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Conversation in a Church

Within a small church, a man sits down. Tall and ominous in certain lights. But kind and gentle to the young and innocent. A weapon and a shield in one.

Father Alexander Anderson has been a Priest for so very long it feels like ages. He has seen many horrors and has killed just as many. And as an act of Penance to failures to save innocents he now looks after and out for the Orphans in his Orphanage. He so very loves those children and makes sure they do not sin or fall into the temptation of sin because one day Father Anderson might have to deal the swift blow of consequences.

He was aware of the few types of vampires. Some more common then others. He was aware of how Demons work as opposed to how people think they work. Father Anderson was aware that some would call them glorified or perhaps supercharged ghosts. They were human once, but once they were damned they were no more human then a vampire freak.

Father Anderson was aware of the fact that there were Hunters. He has met a few over his years of doing what needs to be done in the name of God.

One meeting he would forever remember because that one Hunter stayed on his mind in the years to come. Father Anderson has tracked his work over the years, Father Anderson was impressed. The Hunter was ruthless when he needs to be, as far as Father Anderson was concerned he was doing God's work as well.

But it wasn't the Hunter that really stood out.

It was his son, sons to be exact. But one son in particular. The oldest son. Father Anderson met the Hunter and his Son's back when the oldest was only six years old and already grown up. It broke Father Anderson's heart to see a boy be like that. The boy took on the role of Mother, Father, Brother, Babysitter and Friend for his younger brother. The devotion was a rare thing to witness some days. Not even seen in the Church when Father Anderson attends.

He went into instant caretaker mode while waiting for there Father to leave the Pub he was questioning people in, no doubt taking a drink too. Father Anderson remembered he had words with the man later that night. It didn't end well for Father Anderson.

But the boy's words were chilling.

_Father Anderson put on his warmest smile as he crouched down on the boy's level while he sat in the car waiting patiently for their Father. Instantly he tried to engage the boy in conversation. Kid stuff mainly. The younger son was more receptive. Though the young toddler couldn't get too close to him. Big brother proved to be very protective._

_Anderson finally ended his attempts at conversation with a prayer he uses every now and again for children in his Orphanage. A prayer he has taught Young Maxwell._   
  
_A prayer to Your Guardian Angel_   
_“Angel of God, my guardian dear,_   
_To whom God's love commits me here_   
_Ever this day be at my side_   
_To light and guard, to rule and guide._   
_Amen.”_

_He left the boys with that as he walked back to the pub he heard footsteps behind him. He turned and the Eldest son stood before him. Dean was his name, the toddler called it several times only to be told to stay once before the young boy turned to Father Anderson again._

_“My Mom always said Angels are watching over us... But she lied. Do you know why Father?” The boy, Dean said in a quiet voice that seemed like it wasn't used often for strangers._

_Anderson knelt down so he was on eye level with Dean. He enquired why while his heart was shattering because he knows the story about Mary Winchester, heard it from John their father._

_“There are no angels. There never was. No angel was there to help Mom. No angels to help Sam and my Dad. There's only bad things in the world Father Anderson. Evil things. Monsters. Chaos.” Dean said with a chilling certainty that only showed that whatever innocence the boy had is either dying a painful death or already dead._

Father Anderson sighed inwardly, he did wonder how that boy was doing. From what he's heard his father has died a year ago. Dean no doubt wasn't taking it well. The sound of the church door opening and Father Anderson couldn't stop the shock from showing on his face. What were the chances of the person he was thinking of walking into his life again?

“Dean Winchester.” Father Anderson greeted as he stood up, smiling the type of smile he reserves for people he wanted to be kindly towards. And especially if he met or known them when they themselves were children. Though his smile faltered when he saw the look of horror behind those green eyes. Hidden by a smile meant to greet him in return. But Father Anderson caught it.

“Father Anderson.” Dean greeted in return, walking up to the front of the church. The boy seemed to be uncomfortable to be here. No doubt it doesn't help from his previous views and the lifestyle he lives. Father Anderson guides him to a spot off to the side to sit. A large cross still within full few.

Father Anderson picked a quiet spot because his instincts as a caretaker was taking over and he knew this man when he was a boy, even though it was only a brief moment Dean left an impression. Father Anderson just wondered if he should have taken the boys with him, if that would have saved them from the life that has trapped them no doubt.

“I heard about your Father.” Father Anderson started, his tone sympathetic. Dean nodded, not giving anything away yet. Not crying, not speaking. Father Anderson let his hand tighten on the man's shoulder as a form of comfort.

“Sold his soul...” Dean whispered, Father Anderson wasn't even sure he heard right. So of course he enquired with a simply question,  
“What?”

“For me. So that I can live... I was in a coma. Sam had to tell me what happened. And it was only confirmed a day or so ago... When Dad walked out of Hell and saved me again from getting killed. Not that it'll do any good...” Dean mumbled, probably didn't even know why he was talking or even admitting any of this.

Father Anderson found that he didn't like where this was going. Not one bit.

“What happened Dean.” Father Anderson asked as he watched Dean closely. They were faint, but Father Anderson saw tears.

“A gate was opened... Azazel opened a gate to Hell. Dad walked out and stopped him from killing me. Sammy was stuck to a tree so he couldn't help. I shot Azazel with the Colt. A gun that was designed to kill anything. And I killed Azazel. Dad disappeared after that in a show of white light... Dad's gone... Sammy's panicking because he's trying to...” Dean stopped almost like he just realized that he has just said too much and that he shouldn't have said a word. The tightening of the boy's body told Father Anderson the man was going to bolt.

Father Anderson tends to forget someone is an adult when he met them when they were children. This time was no different as he forced Dean to look at him and with a firm voice meant to get answers out of children he asked,  
“Trying to do what Dean, what happened?” He wanted to ask, what did you do. Because something told him it was by Dean's choice that something was going to happen.

“Almost a year ago, Sam was killed. I didn't know what to do... I... Sam... It's my job to look after him. To look out for the kid. Protect him, keep him from harm. I failed... I didn't know what else to do. I...” Dean explained, no doubt leading to something bigger but he stopped talking and Father Anderson did what he could to give physical comfort to a boy who no doubt was starved of it.

“It's okay Dean, you can speak to me.” Father Anderson pushed, the information didn't seem right because from what he has heard Sam was spotted not even a month ago. Father Anderson watched as Dean took a few breaths in and out. He repeated this for a bit.

“I did something I can't get out of because if I try, if I do then Sam dies.” Dean finally said, and Father Anderson swore that for the first time in about ten years he felt a lump form in his throat.

“What did you do boy?” Father Anderson demanded, not meaning to come across as demanding but he couldn't stop himself. A slight flinch told him that the seriousness of the conversation wasn't lost on Dean.

“I sold my soul...” And it was proved when Dean gave that as his answer.

Father Anderson felt his world stop for a moment as he held his breath. Surely Dean didn't say what he just did. Surely Father Anderson heard wrong. But he knows he didn't, he knows that Dean did in fact do what he said he did. He cursed the Father of this boy and the boy's life. Dean from what Father Anderson learnt had no self-esteem and had hardly no love for himself. It was all reserved for Sam and some for their Father. Dean had no purpose outside of Sam and the Hunt.

So it only made sense that something like this would have happened.

“De-” Father Anderson started.

“I'm going to Hell in less then a few months... I'm going so my brother lives. I... I don't regret that. I just... I'm just afraid of what's going to happen when I get there. Demons, demons were humans once until they forgot that they were and that everything good in them was taken out and replaced with hatred and cruelty and evil. I don't want to be that... I don't want to be something that is going to be hunted one day because... Just because.” Dean's words were quiet, that was the worst part about that explanation. Father Anderson couldn't say much for that but he figured he should say something. Anything.

It wasn't fair for this boy. For this man who never had a childhood. For a man who has saved so many and has killed so much evil in his short life. Father Anderson wanted to ask if there's something he could do. Before he could say another word Dean stood up, pulled away and made his way towards the aisle between two rows of long benches set up for Church goers to sit and pray.

“Sorry Father Anderson... I shouldn't have said all of that. You're not family. Uh, sorry.” Dean said as he started towards the door. It seemed like he just needed someone to talk to outside of family though. Sometimes even someone like Dean needed that. Father Anderson just kept quiet, any words of comfort he could come up with died.

Instead he sent a prayer to an angel, any angel to help Dean as soon as they could. To prove the boy wrong somehow and save his soul.


End file.
